


Two Nights, A Day, A Bull, and A Wolf At The Inn At The Crossroads

by librarysquatter



Series: Dreams of Spring [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Contemplative, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Not Rated so make of that what you will, Quiet, Relationship Goals, Romance, Season 8 in my headcannon, Season/Series 08, Sexual Content, Smut, Which I guess means..., script doctoring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarysquatter/pseuds/librarysquatter
Summary: On the road to Harrenhal, Arya and Gendry stop at a familiar inn, meet an old friend, and contemplate lives past and future, as well as roads taken and not taken.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Hot Pie/Willow Heddle, Meera Reed/Bran Stark
Series: Dreams of Spring [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092935
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30
Collections: A Song Of Ice And Fire and Game Of Thrones, GENDARYA, Game Of Thrones Fanfics, Game Of Thrones Romance, Game of Thrones, Game of Thrones Season 8 left us wanting. Let's fix that!, Gendry_Arya, Gendrya Goals (Finally Canon!), The Wolf and the Bull





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> So, welcome to the latest part to what has become my series Dreams of Spring.
> 
> For those wondering when this occurs, the events of this story will take place between Chapter 38 (Greywater Watch) and Chapter 39 (Harrenhal) in the main Dreams of Spring story. Hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Harrenhal, Arya, Gendry, and their traveling companions come across a familiar face and a familiar friend.

1.

**Arya**

On the Kingsroad, a tired band of travelers made their way through the northern Riverlands, which looked as tired as those that traveled through them.

The Riverlands in the middle of winter were different variant shades of grey as far as could be seen. Fallow fields and pastures were covered with clumps of dirty snow or runny mud, and the few woods that could be seen offered little shelter for anyone, with their branches denuded of any leaves except for the odd pine or spruce.

_There are few enough people to be seen,_ Arya Stark thought as she traveled the now-familiar path south. The ice-covered rivers were impassable for any boats or pole barges, and the farmers were huddled in their scattered cottages against the cold, as were any of their livestock in their barns.

While they encountered few people on the Kingsroad headed south, she knew there would soon be plenty of people clogging the roads and filling the fallow grain fields and grazing lands. The main Army of the High Kingdom of Westeros and New Valyria followed closely behind them now, just exiting the Neck into the northern Riverlands. They were headed for the huge, looming ruin that was the castle of Harrenhal on the northern banks of the God’s Eye. At least two or three other allied forces aligned with the High Kingdom would soon join them there, as would her far more modest party.

_I wonder if the Riverlanders sensed we were coming._ She remembered all the tales of wars in the past that she learned of from her books or tales from Old Nan, from conflicts of the First Men before the coming of the Andals to her brother Robb’s battles on these fields during the recent War of the Five Kings. It seemed like the Riverlands had been the preferred battlefield of those seeking to rule Westeros for thousands of years. _They likely could sense an army marching toward them from miles away._

_I wonder if_ I _have that talent myself. I always thought of myself as a Northerner, but how much am I a Riverlander?_ She had Riverlander blood from her mother, of course, and she had spent a good portion of the years since her lord father’s death traveling the roads and fields of the Riverlands. _After all this time, I’m not sure I could consider this_ home _. I grew up in the North, that is what I consider my true home and roots… but this place is not unfamiliar anymore, at least._

Speaking of traveling companions, she slowed the pace of her horse, Starlight, which she had bought from one of the Dothraki bloodriders who’d survived the Battle of the Long Night. A black mare with a white diamond spot on its forehead, it did not have quite the size of Westerosi stallions, but she’d not ever had any horse with her level of endurance. As long as she was decently fed and watered, she seemed tireless over the long miles south.

She came parallel to a large young man riding one of the larger stallions, adjusting his position in the saddle after a long day’s ride, easier to do when not wearing armor. She noted with pride that although he might never be at ease as much as she was in the saddle, he’d learned somewhere over the long miles toward the south not to ride as if he’d never seen a horse. “We’re getting close to it, aren’t we, Bull?” she asked him.

“I think so,” Gendry Baratheon said. “I’m starting to see some of the woods be more familiar. We should be coming upon it soon.” He looked down and smiled at her. “It looks more familiar around here, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re right,” she said, staying near him and restraining herself from taking his hand in hers at the moment.

When she was a little girl, she’d pictured making such a ride to the south and dreaded the very thought. She pictured herself being sold off by her parents to some old southren lord or a vapid, younger knight, who lived in an unfamiliar place and just needed a highborn woman to push out a few children to inherit his lands and keep.

Now she was riding south with a man she planned to marry soon, to be his wife and him her husband, in a place, the Stormlands, she had never visited before, much less lived. And the only thing that she was truly nervous about was the fact that she wasn’t all that nervous. Likely it was the fact that she loved him that made the difference.

Even not quite comfortable in the saddle, she loved his look, the massive muscles from his chest through his limbs, the stunning cornflower blue eyes, his black hair that was finally starting to grow out on the trip down the Kingsroad. And there was the smile, the one that always seemed so rare to him, the grin that spread across his face whenever he saw her.

They’d met when they were children, after her father had been executed and his master had sent him off to the Watch. He’d figured out that she was a girl, despite her looking nothing like one after the haircut the Watch man had given her to hide her presence. They’d been traveling companions, then friends… and then they’d been separated for some time, only to have him reunite with her at her home, when she and her family and many others fought against a threat that many thought never existed, or was a fantasy. Their friendship had evolved into something much more than she ever expected, more than she ever thought possible, until it changed from something that she denied to something that was simple, uncontestable fact.

They were now both lovers and betrothed to each other, a process that had taken a few weeks of negotiations regarding what their future might be. Now, one of the only regrets she had was that her parents were not alive to see it. She was likely even going to wear a dress, based on what her sister said to her back in Winterfell. She was sure her mother might have been horrified that she was marrying a former bastard, especially the former bastard of the notorious lecher and drinker King Robert Baratheon. All things being equal, she would have preferred to feel her mother’s discomfort in person.

Gendry turned to another man riding with him, a much smaller but sturdy man with dusty salt and pepper hair and beard and stark emerald green eyes, dressed in the green clothing and leather and bronze scale armor of a crannogman of the Neck. Lord Howland Reed was the leader of the nearly three hundred men and scattering of women who had ridden south with them to answer the High King and Queen’s call to arms. “My Lord,” Gendry asked. “You’ve traveled this road before – we should be getting close to the place, yes?”

Lord Howland chuckled as he looked down the road. “Maybe, but it’s hard for me to say. The last time I traveled down this road was more than twenty years previously, when Lady Arya’s father and I rode south to find her aunt Lyanna. At the time, neither I or Ned were paying much attention to the scenery unless necessary, I must admit.”

“Better than my circumstance, I’d expect,” Arya’s brother said from behind. “Every step this horse has been taking has carried me farther south than I’ve ever been before.”

She turned back to face him and tried not to seem startled. She always had expected her surviving youngest brother to be a small, skinny thing, a fresh-cheeked boy, from her past memories. Brandon Stark was now six and ten, and likely would have towered over her if he’d been able to stand. His reddish-brown hair was now slightly shaggy, and he somehow was sporting a short and sparse beard and mustache. Although his unusable legs were still somewhat spindly upon inspection, she was taken aback at how much his upper body, especially his shoulders and arms, had grown in strength.

With the wheelchair designed by Maester Wolkan of Winterfell safely stowed away in one of the supply wagons, he was riding with the assistance of a special saddle that kept him steady on the back of an agreeable mare. It had been created by some of the leather craftsmen at House Reed’s home of Greywater Watch, with the input of Bran and his memories of one designed for him by Lord Tyrion – the original had gone missing years ago during the Ironborn sack of Winterfell. After several miles of riding, Bran had proclaimed it to be at least equal to his old saddle.

A young woman with dark curly hair and Howland Reed’s emerald eyes patted Bran on the shoulder. “Don’t feel self-conscious about that,” Meera Reed said to him. “Not many people are as lucky as your sister to travel all over the place and back again. I’m in your same position.”

“That’s true,” Arya said. “And even with me… sure, I traveled to Braavos, but I haven’t been to every place in Westeros. Never went to Dorne, never went to the Reach, most of the Westerlands… not the Stormlands.”

“Well, the Stormlands we’ll discover together,” Gendry said. “We’ll have some of our friends there, and we’ll have each other, right?” With a hesitant hand, he reached over to stroke the side of Arya’s face.

She cupped his hand to her cheek for a moment. “Aye, we will,” she said.

Arya took a quick look behind her, Gendry, and Lord Howland to see Bran riding with Meera. She saw her reach over and slowly stroke Bran’s lower back in a few soothing circles, perhaps trying to massage a soreness.

She and the crannogwoman, who was twenty name days to her eight and ten, had become fast friends and kindred spirits since they had met at Greywater Watch. However, she had to admit she was still getting used to the idea of her being her baby brother’s lover. There had been more than a few japes and barbed comments between the two once she’d discovered the situation, but she realized that their feelings had grown much like hers and Gendry’s – traveling companions thrown together who had become friends and then much more. While she thought she might never quite get used to the idea of her baby brother having a sex life, she had to admit that Meera might be the best possible match for him. Of Lord Howland’s opinion on the matter, she had no idea – Arya never dared broach the subject with him, and she knew Bran and Meera had done their best to be as discrete as possible.

Gendry’s hand left her face as he pointed forward. “Hang on a minute, Arry,” he said. “I think this is it coming up, right?”

She looked forward and saw the crossroads creeping over the rise. The crossroads village, and its inn, lay just north of the Trident, with the Kingsroad passing by it north to south and the High Road, leading to her cousin’s keep in the Vale, splitting away from it there and headed east. The intersection to the River Road headed west would not come until after crossing the Trident at the Ruby Ford.

The crossroads town, located mostly along the eastern side of the Kingsroad and straddling the High Road, was fairly modest – about fifty white homes with thatched roofs, a small marketplace just north of the High Road, and a small stone sept that might have been even smaller than the one tucked into Winterfell for her mother’s benefit. But she was able to see people about – nobody who seemed to be travelers, but at least townspeople, mainly looking to buy and sell in the marketplace.

Then they saw the inn itself come into view, well familiar to both Arya and Gendry. It was just south of the actual crossroad, a three-story building with white stone turrets and chimneys and a thatched roof. Directly to the north of the building was a stable with a thatched roof and bell tower, and the forge Gendry must have recognized nearby. The entire inn was surrounded by a low wall of moss-covered white stones. She remembered now that the other, south side of the inn had been built on wooden pilings, a relic from the days when the banks of the Trident had come up to its very walls before migrating a couple hundred yards to the south.

“I know there won’t be enough places at the inn for all your men,” Arya said, “but there’s plenty of camping spots in the fields to the west of the Kingsroad there.”

“Never you mind, My Lady,” Lord Howland said. “This will be a good place to rest a day or so and refit, get supplies and water. Once we cross the Ruby Ford, it will just be a few days at most until Harrenhal.”

“Aye, I remember,” Arya said.

“You think he’ll still be there?” Gendry asked.

Arya shrugged. “He was last year,” she said. “Assuming he didn’t catch a fever or something, I imagine he still would be.”

There had been an inn at this place for centuries, known at various times as the Two Crowns, the Clanking Dragon, and other names until simply becoming The Inn at the Crossroads. Years ago, a black iron dragon had hung above the porch facing the Kingsroad, but it had been torn down by a local lord trying to demonstrate his loyalty to the Targaryens since their rebel Blackfyre relations had a black dragon as their sigil. Arya noticed that a new sign hung perpendicular to the porch, a simple painted wooden sign showing two roads meeting. Then, as they got within twenty yards of the inn…

“Gods,” Gendry said, “that’s him, isn’t it?”

A plump young man with dark, rumpled hair in rough brown clothing and wearing a flour-stained apron plodded out onto the porch and took a seat on one of the wooden chairs placed out there. With a deep breath, he sipped from a steaming clay mug he held in both hands.

“Aye,” she whispered. Then, she sat up in the saddle, and waved to the young man on the porch. “Hot Pie!” she shouted. “Hot Pie? It’s us!”

Looking up at them with big dark eyes, he sat his mug on the porch floor and stood up. “Arry? Gendry, that you?”

Arya and Gendry galloped their horses over to the inn. They’d barely had time to hitch their horses and head toward the porch when they were nearly bowled over by Hot Pie embracing them. “Seven Hells, didn’t expect to see you… but this is fantastic.”

“We’re glad to be here, Hot Pie,” Arya said. “We brought a few family and friends to stay, as well.” Hot Pie looked over at the line of crannogmen making their way up the road. “They won’t all stay at the inn, mind, but we’d thought we’d spend some time here.”

“Oh, that’d be lovely,” Hot Pie said, nodding. “That would be lovely indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my attempt to do sort of a contemplative, fluffy interlude where two of my main characters in Dreams of Spring relax, think about life, and think about crossroad figurative and literal. Think of it as a touch of Twelfth Night dropped into this big Henry V story, so to speak.
> 
> This was at least partly inspired by TheDameintheRaininMaine, who I discovered on here and has been writing some really reflective and beautiful ASOIAF fiction, much of it centered or at least touching on Arya and Gendry.
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter out quick, because one of the very few things I dislike about AO3 (other than not being able to direct message users) is only allowing drafts to be on the site for a month before they get deleted. So, when I do new stories, I will tend to make a quick first chapter to make sure it gets up.
> 
> How many more chapters this will run is tough to say. (They tend to multiply on me) Safe to say, it will at least be a few.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the story. Also, for those coming across my work for the first time, welcome and I hope you take the chance to read the other stuff I've done. Thanks.


	2. Reunions and Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three old friends reunite and introduce each other to unfamiliar companions and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone, hope this finds you well with this new chapter. Enjoy.

2.

**Hot Pie**

It was a day out of the normal in the end, he would have to admit.

It had been typical up until sunset. He’d baked the regular bread he needed to have ready for the evening meals – he’d only do the custom-ordered breads and cakes as they came in during the supper rush.

He wasn’t expecting to get much of a supper rush around sunset. Maybe one-third of the rooms at the inn were full at the moment. The onset of winter had reduced the number of travelers to a trickle from any of the roads, with only a few merchants coming up the Kingsroad or the High Road or the Riverroad. With the exception of that large number of knights from the Vale riding to the North a few months or so back, there had not been any troops of number or any fighting in the area.

_Thank the gods for that,_ he’d thought, remembering some of the difficult past times when men with blades had ridden into the area and people here had come out the poorer for it. Now it seemed that no men with blades would show themselves around the inn. The Brotherhood Without Banners had long faded away, but he’d heard rumors of other bands coming together, men and women with similar thoughts about protecting the smallfolk from both the oppression of the lords and the dangers of the common bandits. Increasingly, however, the king’s men – or queen’s men, he supposed – were nowhere to be seen. Some of the men pledged to the lord now in charge of these lands, Lord Ronald of House Roote, came out on occasion, wearing the two-headed horse sigil of that house, when it was time for taxes to be collected. Otherwise, those men were not seen around the crossroads. The true bandits had apparently moved on for lack of anyone especially rich to rob, so there were barely any crimes of note among the smallfolk. Any disagreements between families and neighbors were sorted out easily enough by the elders of the crossroads village.

_Everything’s been quiet enough lately. And I’m glad for it,_ he thought as he took a moment to pour himself a mug of tea in the kitchens before his break. _Adventure’s not the type of thing that suits me all that well, to be honest. That time I spent traipsing around in the Riverlands with Arry and Gendry, trying to avoid bandits and the king’s men, that was probably all of the adventure I ever need for this lifetime._

_Quiet and no trouble coming up the road, that’s the thing for me… for the rest of this place, to be honest,_ he continued to say to himself as he made his way out of the kitchen. _Back in the bad times, a few years ago, you’d have to be afraid of what could come down the road – you might need someone like Arry around to watch out for yourself. But things were quieter now, more peaceful._

He was glad for that, glad for this place that had become home for him, much more than King’s Landing had ever been. It was a place where you could breathe, live a quiet, peaceful, and at least somewhat prosperous life in the meadows of the Riverlands. It was a place where you could relax with a mug of tea and watch the sun set over the fallow fields and pastures to the west and just be at peace.

It was right then when he heard a now-familiar voice from up the road from the north. “Hot Pie? Hot Pie, it’s us!”

He turned his head and his eyes widened as he saw two figures leading a sizable group of riders. The call had come from a small woman on a black horse… _Arry?_ Then there was a larger man, with coal black hair and even broader shoulders than he once remembered. “Arry? Gendry, that you?

They responded by riding up to the inn. He set down his tea mug and started to walk out to them. By the time they’d dismounted, he’d already gotten to them and embraced the two, even though Arry had to stand up and Gendry had to crouch down for him to do it. “Seven Hells, didn’t expect to see you… but this is fantastic.”

As Arry rattled on about bringing a few friends, he saw more of the riders either pulling up beside them or moving off to the open fields in the west. Except for Gendry, they tended to be smaller men and a few women, like some mix between men at arms and scouts. They were dressed in greens and browns with some bronze armor between them, but none were brandishing their weapons and they were making little noise, so at least they didn’t seem to be a threat – _not that Gendry or Arry would ever threaten any innocents, but anyway… no way in the Seven Hells we can fit all of_ them _at the inn._

“…thought we’d spend some time here,” he heard Arya say.

“Oh, that’d be lovely,” he responded. “That would be lovely indeed.”

As they continued to talk, he saw some more riders come up to them at the hitching post. The first was an older man, well old enough to be their father, with salt and pepper brown hair and emerald eyes, short in stature but someone who apparently was in charge of the others. Another one was a girl maybe Arry’s age, with curly black hair and the man’s eyes, skinny but strong and wearing bronze scale armor, so he figured that she could take care of herself like Arry could.

Then there was another, a boy that looked maybe a bit younger than the rest of them, riding up to the hitching post but not dismounting. He was surprised to see Gendry go over, reach up, and help him off his horse, carrying him in both arms with ease. He saw another man hurry up behind Gendry and the boy with a queer chair with two large wooden wheels in the rear and two small ones in the front. Gendry set the boy, who had short reddish-brown hair and very clear blue eyes in a long face that reminded Hot Pie of Arry, down in the chair. Using his arms, the boy pushed the chair closer to Hot Pie as the other man hitched up his horse.

“We have some people I’d like you to meet,” Arry said, pointing to the boy in the chair. “This is my younger brother, Brandon. He was the one who couldn’t walk.” She pointed to the older man. “This is Lord Howland Reed, he was a close friend of my father and one of his bannermen. This is his daughter, Meera,” pointing now to the girl. “She’s a friend of mine… and a close friend of Brandon, as well.”

After they all exchanged greetings, Lord Howland spoke up. “Are you the proprietor here, lad?”

“Oh… n, no, not me, M’lord,” Hot Pie said, stumbling over his words slightly. “I’m the baker here, help handle the meals, like.”

“How many rooms might there be available at your inn?” Lord Howland asked. “I know you likely wouldn’t have enough for the lot of us, but maybe a few?”

“There’s more than a few vacancies, but we might only have enough rooms for… a third of your group, half at the very most? We’ll definitely see what we can do, M’lord…”

“Understood. The rest of us should be able to camp out. Would we be able to use this pasture here?” Lord Howland asked, pointing to a field just west of the inn.

“Oh, aye, that should be fine. That field’s fallow right now.”

“We’re only going to rest two nights and a day, I think,” Gendry said. “After we have a chance to get a rest and some more supplies, maybe, we’ll be on the road again.”

“Where are you off to, then?” Hot Pie asked.

“Harrenhal,” Arry said with a roll of her eyes.

“Ah, a bit of bad memories, there.”

“Well, we have to go there,” she replied to him. “My brother married the Dragon Queen and they want to get rid of Cersei Lannister, who managed to seize the throne after all her children died before her.”

“Erm, well,” Hot Pie responded, not quite sure how to absorb all that. “It sounds like you’ve been pretty busy since you went back to see your family in the North, Arry.”

“That’s the truth,” she said.

“Come on inside, then, sit down for a bit. We’ll talk for a bit, get you something to eat… and you can let me know what’s gone on with you. And what’s gone on with you, as well,” he said, turning to Gendry. “Gods, I haven’t seen you in, what, five, six years? What in Seven Hells happened to you?”

“Nearly as strange a story as Arry’s, I’ll admit,” Gendry said. “Sure, we’d love to stop in and talk.”

“Great! Come on, then,” Hot Pie replied, waving for them to come inside.

As they started to head into the inn, however, one thought popped into his mind. _Hope the missus doesn’t get startled by all the armed men._

#

**Gendry**

He recognized the long and drafty common room as soon as he walked in, with the ale and wine kegs at one end of the room and the big fireplace at the other end. He wasn’t surprised to see nearly all the tables empty of patrons, except for a couple of older men nursing some ale, given what Hot Pie said about the lack of travelers.

What he was surprised at was the sight of two women behind the bar brandishing crossbows at him and Arry as they walked through the front doors.

“Oi!” they heard from the shorter of the two, calling out in a small, sweet, but commanding voice, “What’s your business here? We don’t want trouble here!”

“Willow, please!” Hot Pie yelped as he jumped in front of him and Arry, “Don’t shoot! They’re friends!”

“They look like soldiers,” grumbled the other woman – older, nearly as tall as Brienne of Tarth, Gendry judged.

“Well, they are soldiers, I guess – but they’re not here to cause trouble, and they _are_ friends, I swear. They’re passing through.”

After a few tense moments, the taller woman lowered her crossbow a fraction. The younger one set hers down on the bar and walked around. Gendry noticed that the women – although the smaller one appeared to be slightly younger than Arya – shared the same long brown hair, sleepy brown eyes, and oval faces.

Hot Pie seemed to shrink from the young girl as she marched up to him, pulled a bar rag out from the apron she wore, and smacked him on the arm with it. She was at least a head shorter than him, maybe more. “Hot Pie Heddle, you should know better than to march in here with strange soldiers without warning us!”

_Heddle?_ He turned to Arya, and she looked as puzzled as him.

“I know, I know, Willow. May I introduce Arya and Gendry. We met in King’s Landing years ago when we were kids and had a couple adventures together before I settled in around here.”

“A couple of adventures? You, Pie? That would be likely,” she japed, but there was the slight hint of affection behind the crosswise glare.

Hot Pie turned to Arya and Gendry. “This is Willow. Her sister over there is Jeyne. They run the inn.”

“People know me as Long Jeyne,” the woman said, setting her crossbow down.

Gendry was trying to remember their past trips to the inn. “I remember another woman being the owner of this place when I was last here, Masha… Heddle,” he said, suddenly remembering why the Heddle name sounded familiar.

“She was our great-aunt,” Willow said. “She was killed and the place fell to our father. He got himself killed and then we got the place. Our family’s run this inn since the retired knight Long John Heddle claimed it a couple centuries back, after Jaehaerys I Targaryen’s rule.”

“How’d they die?” Arya asked.

“A group of Lannister men killed her after she tried to tell them not to fight with some Rivermen here trying to capture The Imp,” Jeyne said. “Some other Westerlands lord murdered our father in a dispute. You’re not from the Westerlands, are you?”  
  


Gendry shook his head. “I was born in Flea Bottom. Arya here’s from the North, like the other men out here. Trust us, we’re not looking for a fight here – we’re headed to Harrenhal. There’s going to be another army coming through here, but they’re headed to Harrenhal as well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Willow huffed. “At least we’ll see some coin. Barely anyone’s been traveling since winter fell.”

“Hot Pie,” Gendry asked, “how come Willow here called you Hot Pie Heddle just a moment ago?”

“Ugh,” the petite but fierce girl grunted at Hot Pie, “go on and tell them.”

“Ah, yes,” Hot Pie said. “Well, to tell the truth… Willow’s my wife.”

Gendry’s jaw dropped at the news, and at Arya’s reaction. “Oh!” she gasped, and suddenly embraced Hot Pie, chastely as to not stir the wrath of his bride. “I’m so excited.”

“So, yuh, he’s with me, got it?” Willow said, having to glare upwards even at Arry.

“Not to worry,” she said, suddenly taking Gendry’s hand in hers. “I’m actually betrothed to this one.”

“Really? You and Gendry? Well, that’s a surp… actually, maybe that’s not that much, the way you looked at him at times. But, how come you weren’t with him when you came through last?”

“That’s a bit to explain. Looks like we’ve got catching up to do,” Gendry said.

“Definitely, but from the crowd out there that there might be something of a supper rush,” Hot Pie said, nodding outside. “Tell you what, you and your friends and brother take that table by the fireplace, and I’ll get out here after we finish baking enough pies and bread for this lot. Might take a while, mind, but feel free to order a meal, aye?”

“Thanks for the welcome,” Gendry said, shaking his hand.

“Right, get off to the ovens – we’re going to be swamped soon,” Willow ordered. She turned to Gendry and Arya. “We’ve got both ale and wine here, not much else.”

“Ale would be lovely, thanks,” Arya replied.

“Go on and sit down, and we’ll get you sorted out,” Willow said, marching off to the kegs.

#

**Arya**

Somehow, the inn had just enough food to handle those who decided to come in for a meal, but not by much, as she overheard Long Jeyne and Willow barking at each other as the former began to down a shopping list for the market the next day. At least all of the crannogmen had stopped in for at least a couple of ales or wine, and some more had tried some of Hot Pie’s meat pies, but others had their drink and went back out to the fields for their own food and to set up their camps. A few had sat down for some longer rests, but there were still empty tables around after the rush.

Arya, Gendry, Lord Howland, Meera, and Bran were gathered, as Hot Pie had suggested, at the table closest by the fireplace. Bran has wheeled his chair to the head of the table, while the rest were on the benches to the sides, Arya and Gendry at one side and Meera and Howland the other.

She saw Hot Pie finally sit down at their table, next to Arya, soon followed by Willow, who sat down on his other side. _“Finally_ got through the supper rush, so I could get caught up with you.”

“It also gives me a chance to get the measure of you all, frankly,” Willow said.

“And I don’t blame you,” Arya said. “With everything I’ve been through in my life, I’m not the most trusting of strangers, either.”

“Hot Pie did tell me something of you two, before and just now,” Willow said, pointing to Arya. “You supposedly are some highborn from the North whose lord and lady parents got wiped out by the Lannisters. This big lad was a bastard blacksmith supposedly on the run from the gold cloaks whom you two got to know. Am I right?”

Gendry nodded. “Aye, pretty much.”

“Young man, before we continue, I had to compliment you on the pies we had this evening,” Lord Howland interrupted. “Lady Arya said they were not to be believed and she was completely accurate. I might get spoiled by the baking in the Riverlands.”

“Uh, thank you m’lord,” Hot Pie said with a nod.

“He does do that,” Willow said, relaxing a bit with the compliment. “Hot Pie might not be skilled at some things, but he’s an artist with some flour, an oven, and a rolling pin, I’ll admit that. And those are just his specialties – he manages quite a good stew nowadays.”

“That sound interesting; we might have to try that before we leave,” Arya said. “Um, Hot Pie, when I was here last year, you didn’t tell me you were married.”

“Well, to be fair, Arry, you were here long enough for a pie and an ale before you’d run off onto the road North,” Hot Pie said, shrugging his shoulders in apology.

“Hmn, fair enough,” Arya replied.

“I wasn’t married yet – not right then,” he clarified, “but we went to the sept here in the village soon after that.”

”So, how come you have Willow and Jeyne’s name?” Gendry asked.

“What, there’s something wrong with that?” Willow shot back.

“What? Uh, no, not in the slightest,” Gendry sputtered. _She’s an intimidating little one, she is._

“I was fine with it,” Hot Pie said. “Honestly, I’m joining _their_ family, not the other way around. It’s not like I had a family name, anyway, so I wasn’t giving up anything.”

“Hot Pie Heddle has a nice ring to it, mind,” Arya said with a small smile.

“Besides, we didn’t want to have the babe go without a last name,” Willow said in a softer voice. As everyone’s eyes at the table except for Hot Pie’s went to her and suddenly noticed a modest-sized bump around her lower belly that her apron had camouflaged, she said. “I’m supposed to have it in… four moons?”

She was surprised to see Meera reach across the table and take her hand. “Congratulations,” she said. “This is a good thing for you?”

Willow nodded, somewhat less sure of herself than she was ordering around Hot Pie or random patrons as she looked down at her lap. “It’s good. I don’t remember our Mum – Jeyne’s and my mum, that is. Masha was the one that really raised us mostly, even though our da was around. He was a bit less dependable, but he tried a bit more once Masha died. He tried to pick business up around here by bringing some whores around, but they pretty much did what they did on their own – and then he got killed.” She looked up at everyone. “We wound up taking in orphans to help out at the inn and in the town – it gives us help and gives them a home. You can meet them later. It’s good to have them here, and Jeyne and Hot Pie, we’re all something of a family, too, you’ll see. But to have a child of ours, that’s special. I’m sorry if we seemed abrupt, but… we don’t want to lose any more of our people.”

“I understand that, more than you know,” Arya said. “These past several years, I lost not only my parents, but two of my brothers, to men with blades. For a while, I thought I’d lost them all, but thank the old gods I didn’t.”

“So, Arry,” Hot Pie piped up, “what ‘appened after you two went off by yourselves? You didn’t stick with each other?”

“Not much of the time,” Arry said. “We ran into the Brotherhood Without Banners. He wanted to serve with them, but they sold him off to a Red Witch so she could bring him to Stannis Baratheon for a blood sacrifice, although Gendry and I didn’t know that last part.”

“What did they want with you?” Hot Pie said.

Gendry sighed at that. “I’m Robert Baratheon’s bastard.”

“Really? That’s it?” Willow piped up to the surprise of all at the table.

“That’s it?” Hot Pie asked his wife in surprise. “Nobody special, mind, just a one-time King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Growing up, I often heard about old King Robert fucking every one in a skirt under thirty name days he could find,” Willow said. “They said he left bastards in all the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. I remember one of the whores that used to work here for my father, Bella. She was from the Stony Sept and said her mother always told her Robert was her father. I’d heard rumors that King Joffrey killed off many of them after Robert died, but I figured some of them had lived.”

“Afterward. The Hound took me from the Brotherhood and tried to find my family to ransom me off to them, but they kept dying before we got there,” Arya said. “Then the ‘lady knight’ found me and beat him in combat, let me get away.”

“So, you didn’t get into it before, but… what happened then, Arry?” Hot Pie asked.

“That’s when I went to Braavos,” Arya said.

#

She told of the years in the House of Black and White, the years of training, of becoming a better killer, of fooling herself into thinking she could forget who she was. She shared only a few details of how she left there, and how she returned, leaving out the whole wiping out of the Freys business. Gendry chimed in with how he’d gotten help in escaping Dragonstone, and how he’d eventually gone North to help out the Starks, and how they’d reunited.

“It was a surprise,” Arya said. “I thought he was dead, too, along with my family… but I learned differently.”

“What happened at your home, then?” Hot Pie asked.

“What didn’t happen?” she snorted.

#

She told of the reunions with her family and with Gendry, and the danger of the Others that the winter brought. She told of her brother’s revelations regarding his true parentage, which seemed to be a bigger surprise to Hot Pie than ice demons. Although she didn’t get into the details – Arya figured Hot Pie didn’t need to hear them – she did confirm that she and Bull had gotten closer in those days, as they waited for the Others. And then she told of the Battle of the Long Night, Bran’s part in the business, and how Gendry had almost died to protect her. She had to brush away a tear starting in one eye as she remembered her desperation as his blood spattered in the freshly fallen snow. With more satisfaction, she recalled how Jon had finished the business with a slight bit of help from her.

“And that’s how we stopped the darkness,” she said as she ended her tale.

Hot Pie’s dark eyes had expanded into dark whirlpools. “Gods. Not that I’d doubt you two, but… it seems so fantastic.”

“We know you might think that, but just wait,” Arya told him as she finished a second pint of ale. “Because we destroyed the Others, the seasons are going to change now in Westeros. We’ll see all of the seasons in a single year rather than have winters or summers lasting years on end. Just watch, spring will be coming in just a couple months.”

“All the seasons in one year?” Hot Pie exclaimed, but then shrugged in acceptance. “Well, I imagine the farmers would be all for that.”

“I imagine so,” Gendry said.

“So, you’re going to Harrenhal? To meet up with your brother’s army?” Hot Pie asked.

“Aye,” she replied. “Also, we’re planning on getting married out there. Mostly for us, but to help Jon out as well. You see, the queen legitimized Gendry, so he’s Gendry Baratheon now, and so we’ll end up helping them run the Stormlands.”

Hot Pie’s jaw dropped at that. “Well, imagine.”

“Imagine _my_ reaction,” Gendry quipped.

“It’s incredible for you, for sure, for both of you… are you all right with it?” Hot Pie asked.

“All right with it?” she replied.

“Well, I knew _you_ were highborn, of course, but… are you all right being a lady? I think I remember you keeping saying to this one you didn’t want to be called one.”

She was quiet for a moment, considering her friend’s question. “I think I am,” she said. “When I was younger, I was fearful of leaving home, leaving the North… but now I’ve traveled a lot around the world and found I fit in most anywhere, I guess. As for the lady bit, well… I’m not going to be a lady like my mother wanted me to be, but I guess I’ll be my own version of it.”

“I mean, I never pictured meself as a lord, never,” Gendry said. “If it was just me, starting to be a lord somewhere, I don’t even think I could manage it. Gods’ sake, I’m just learning to read and write thanks to her. If we weren’t doing it together, I wouldn’t have said yes.”

Hot Pie nodded with a smile. “I can get that. I don’t think I could run this inn by meself, either. I can handle baking and some other cooking, but that’s about it. Me and Willow, us and Jeyne, we work together well as a team. We’re a family.”

“Honestly, we might be able to use someone like you and Willow in the Stormlands,” Arya teased. “Have no bloody idea who handles the baking for Storm’s End, but I’m sure you’d be much better.”

His face fell a bit at that statement, something between nervousness and regret. “Oh, no, I don’t know if I could at all,” he insisted. “Willow, Jeyne and me, we’ve made a home here – this is their home, for sure, part of their heritage. It’s become our home – it’ll be our babe’s home, too,” he added, whispering the last part. “I… I really appreciate the offer, and I’ll always consider you my friends, but I think my place is here, with Willow, Jeyne, and the orphans. I like this life.”

Arya laid a hand on his shoulder, patting him there to reassure him. “I can tell,” she said. “I can tell you really care about her, about everyone here. As much as I want to have my friends around me, and you are my friend, I remembered what it was like to lose my home. I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone. And, it looks like you’re needed here. Just know that if you ever come to the Stormlands, to visit or whatever, we’ll be there to welcome you.”

It was then that she saw Jeyne looming behind her and Gendry. “We’ve sorted out rooms for all of you,” she said. “Even though most of your men preferred camping outside, still enough of them sought out rooms that we’re all but full.”

“Lead the way, Jeyne,” Arya said.

#

“Like I said, there’s not too many rooms left when it was all done,” Jeyne said to Arya as they got to the top floor of the inn and its rooms. “I figured since you and the big man were betrothed, you could share a room,” she concluded, with a slight roll of the eyes.

As Jeyne opened a door, she looked inside at the room. Nice-sized bed, fireplace, a window to the outside… “This will be fine.”

“I’ve got one for your brother right next door,” Jeyne said, pointing to the adjacent door. “Right next to that, that room we’ll set aside for Lord… Howland, is it not? And, your lady daughter as well.”

“These will suit us fine, thank you very much,” Howland said.

“Well, I know it is getting late, so I’ll let all of you settle in. We serve breakfast maybe an hour after sunrise, so feel free to come down.”

“Appreciated, thank you very much,” Arya said. With that, Jeyne took her leave.

“Well, I think getting settled in would be a great idea,” Gendry said. “I’m bloody exhausted, myself.”

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Arya said. “I’ll just make sure Bran’s settled into his room.”

“Of course, see you later, love,” Gendry said before heading into his room.

“Well, my lady, we’ll take our leave as well,” Howland said. “In the morning, I’ll meet with my captains and see what supplies we might seek out here before leaving the next day.”

“All right,” Arya said. “Thank you, my lord.”

“My lady,” Howland replied.

“Have a good night, everyone,” Meera said.

“Good night, Meera,” Bran and Arya said in unison. Arya, but not Howland, noticed how Meera stole a look back at Bran before following her father inside their room.

As Arya wheeled him down the hallway, she asked, “Do you need to use the restroom?”

“Not now, thank you, Arya.”

Once she saw that Howland and Meera had gone into their room, Arya leaned over and whispered into Bran’s ear. “I know that look.”

“What look?” The innocence in his voice made her think of him at ten and not the six and ten he was now.

“Don’t give me ‘What look?’ Brandon Stark, you know what I’m talking about,” she said as she wheeled him into his room. “It’s the same look you used to have before running off into unknown corners of Winterfell or trying to make off with some fruitcakes from the kitchen.”

“Steal anything from your friend’s kitchen? I’d never think of such a thing,” he said, looking back at him with the sly grin he used to have when he’d managed to fool their parents.

“It’s not that type of treat that I’m talking of, but something… more woman-shaped,” she grumbled.

“Someone’s serving woman-shaped cakes around here?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Arya said.

“You think I’m going to sneak into their room and disturb Lord Howland?”

“Ugh.” She shook her head as she took him by the shoulder. “Just… make sure the two of you are discrete, all right? Didn’t want to upset Lord Howland.”

“Just like you and Gendry are discrete, right?”

“We’re betrothed now and I didn’t have to worry about Father and Mother catching us.”

“I promise nothing,” he said. _“I_ won’t be the one sneaking somewhere, I can tell you that.”

“Ugh, you can keep the plans to yourself. Come on, _hup,”_ she said, helping lift him into the empty bed. “Looks like you need some water in here,” she said, lifting up the tin jug by his bed. “I’ll get some water out at the well.”

“Thank you,” Bran said. “Arya? I just want you to know – I want to be with Meera. Together, as man and wife, like you want to be with Gendry.”

“I understand,” she said. “You are happy with her?”

“I am,” he said, nodding.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, patting her brother on the cheek. “Well, best of luck with Lord Howland when the time comes.”

“I appreciate it,” Bran said as he settled into the bed and Arya helped pull the quilts and blankets over him.

#

Given how tired everyone was by the end of the day, there was no attempt by Meera to sneak into Brandon’s room or for Arya and Gendry to share more than a few affectionate caresses before they drifted off to sleep that first night.

That would not be the case the second night they spent at the Inn of the Crossroads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Again, what we have is a liberal blend of both book and show Westeros here. I've made the arrangements to best fit the story I wanted to present.  
> 2\. Yes, the last section of the story is a blatant promise for some serious fluff in the next chapter or two.  
> 3\. Next chapter, Arya and Gendry spend a day in the life with the Heddles of the Crossroads and ponder a road not taken.
> 
> Take care, everyone. Kudos are appreciated and say hi in the comments - I say hi back. :)


End file.
